


Ashbury Manor

by maraudersaffair



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: hp_drizzle, F/F, First Dates, First Kiss, Flirting, HP Drizzle Fest 2020, Lesbian Hermione Granger, Light Angst, Ministry of Magic Employee Hermione Granger, POV Lesbian Character, Post-Second War with Voldemort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25878241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maraudersaffair/pseuds/maraudersaffair
Summary: Millicent farms the land on her manor. She enjoys the work and the weather, but she is lonely. Enter Hermione Granger.
Relationships: Millicent Bulstrode/Hermione Granger
Comments: 5
Kudos: 38
Collections: HP Drizzle Fest 2020





	Ashbury Manor

**Author's Note:**

> Written for HP Drizzle Fest 2020. The prompt was _Millicent is settled into her life now that the war is behind them all. It's quiet and runs on routine, and she likes it that way. All that changes someone new comes into her life._ It also asked for farmer!Millicent and butch!Millicent. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Millicent deserves some love <3

For Millicent, the best thing about being a Slytherin was Ashbury Manor. She inherited it from a great uncle who had been obsessed with pure blood and privacy. The estate was enormous, overwhelming; Millicent planned to sell off most of the land to Muggles. All she needed was a couple of acres for her farm.

Millicent was glad that her great uncle was dead. She was glad the Dark Lord had lost. She just wanted to get on with her life; she just wanted to forget the war. 

The manor was nothing to behold. It was cracked and wrinkled, and had one too many panes of glass missing. The front windows looked like a smile with broken teeth. 

Its stone facade suffered from jaundice, its large ugly buttresses maimed and missing limbs. 

The wild gardens were barely penetrable. At the entrance, rose bushes had closed rank, and Millicent was forced to chop through thorns with her wand to create a path. She liked the work, the challenge. She liked sinking her hands into soil, curling her fingers around roots. The reek of bleeding sap was intoxicating. 

Millicent spent most of her time alone. She liked it that way. She didn’t like people, and people didn’t like her. Plants never said rude things to her; or judged her plain face; or compared her to an ape or a cow. She stayed away from mandrakes. 

Her farm stretched across the land like a quilt. She grew many things, including herself. It was summertime, which meant she had an explosion of tomatoes, and squash, and turnips. In the sunlight, the tomatoes looked like drops of blood, the squash gnarled troll toes, the turnips bruised cheeks peeking through the soil. 

Millicent hadn’t always compared growing things to violence. The war crept into her thoughts, made a home there, secretive, oppressive. Millicent was fine; she was alive. She wasn’t happy, but when had she ever been happy?

The day Hermione Granger came to Ashbury, Millicent was out digging in her fields, preparing for autumn crops, quilting seeds into the soft soil. There was a heatwave, and sweat licked her face. Millicent wore holey blue jeans and a ripped flannel shirt - _very_ Muggle. She had her head low, the sun burning the back of her neck, and she didn’t hear Granger’s wandering footsteps. 

“Hello?”

Millicent gave a shout and popped up from the ground like a gnome. She blinked, not believing her eyes. “Granger?”

Granger blushed. “I’m terribly sorry - I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Millicent stood and beat the dirt from her knees. She could have easily used her wand but she wanted something to do with her hands. “How in the bloody hell did you find me?”

“I’m with the Ministry,” Granger said, fumbling with something in her pocket. It was parchment - an official document from the Wizengamot. 

“Of course you are.” Millicent gritted her teeth and prepared herself for the worst. “Are you here to take Ashbury from me?”

Granger’s brown eyes widened. “No, no! It’s nothing like that.”

“Don’t look so shocked,” Millicent grumbled. “I _am_ a Slytherin.”

“Is that what you think? The Ministry is targeting innocent Slytherins without reason?”

“Oh, I think there’s _reason_ ,” Millicent said. “It’s not like I dropped everything to fight against the Dark Lord.”

“You were a child.”

“So were you.”

“Yes but … it was different for me.”

Millicent shrugged. “If you say so.”

Granger stood there, not saying anything. Sweat spilled down her face. Quite suddenly, Millicent imagined herself leaning forward and licking her neck like an ice lolly. Oh, fuck.

“Would you like tea?” Millicent said. “Perhaps something cold?”

Granger looked surprised. “Yes, thank you. It is quite hot out.” 

They stomped back to the manor in silence. Bees circled them, smelling for pollen and wandering dangerously close to ears. Millicent was used to keeping a company of insects, but Granger shuddered and jerked when even the littlest fly landed on her. 

“Not one for the outdoors, are you?”

“No,” Granger said, flinching when a bee buzzed close to say hello. 

“What did you do when you and Potter were camping for all those months?”

Granger studied her for a moment. “You know about that?”

Millicent shrugged. “I do subscribe to the _Prophet_ … also Skeeter’s book was interesting.”

A dark look overtook Granger’s face. “Don’t believe a word that woman writes,” she said. Millicent thought Granger looked pretty when she was angry. 

Dusty shadows greeted them inside the manor. Millicent spelled open a few curtains in the lounge and had two glasses of lemonade scurry from the kitchen into their hands. The lemonade was fizzy and refreshing, and Millicent savored the sweet tartness. 

They sat in dusty chairs in front of a yawning fireplace. Millicent let Granger finish her drink before speaking. 

“What exactly does the Ministry want from me?” Millicent said. 

“Do you know I’m a solicitor now?”

“No.”

Granger beamed proudly. “I’m a solicitor for the Ministry - there’s a whole council of us. I’m the newest appointee.” 

“How nice.” 

Granger gazed down at the mouldy carpet. “This is an incredible place. Would you mind giving me a tour?”

Millicent sighed, exasperated. “Are you here to tell me I need to appear in front of the Wizengamot?”

“Nothing like that!” Granger laughed. “I’m here because you intend to sell land to Muggles, correct?”

“Yes.”

“That’s great!” Granger said too cheerfully. “The Ministry supports your choice to sell to Muggles.”

Millicent shifted in her seat.

“The thing is … the Ministry wants to make sure the Muggles are _equally_ represented.”

“I see.”

“Sometimes it can be difficult for Muggles to do business with witches and wizards, and the selling of property is quite important.”

Millicent tried to control her anger. “So … you’re here because the Ministry doesn’t trust me not to take advantage of Muggles?”

Granger’s smile turned brittle. “Yes, in a way.”

“What you’re saying is the Ministry already thinks of me as a criminal.”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying!”

Millicent crossed her arms. “What do you want from me then? Access to my records? You want to spy on my negotiations with these Muggles?”

Granger gnawed her lip. “Both?”

Millicent stood, not knowing what she intended to do. She wanted to pace; she wanted to yell and pull at her hair. She looked down at Granger, and Granger looked up at her hopefully. Granger’s bottom lip was still a bit red from her gnawing. 

“Have dinner with me,” Millicent said. 

“Oh.”

Raising an eyebrow, she said, “I heard you are into women. Are you dating anyone?”

“Do you mean to imply that you will only cooperate if I date you?” 

“No.”

Granger looked her up and down. She bit her lip again. “It’s not a good idea … I shouldn’t get involved with clients.”

“I’m not a client.” Millicent’s heart was pounding stupidly. “You said you wanted a tour. Come over this Friday and I’ll give you that tour.”

“And we will have dinner?”

“Yes, but but let’s not talk about records and land sales. I will fully cooperate; but I don’t want our date to be about that rubbish. ”

Granger blushed, looking delighted. “Our date,” she murmured.

*

Friday arrived wetly. The sky turned hot and smoky, and warm rain battered her old windows. Millicent made a chicken roast with turnips from her garden. She put on her nicest robes - _date_ robes. Her hair was a lost cause, so she pulled it all up into a tight bun. Her heart thumped. She wanted Hermione Granger to fancy her.

Millicent’s mouth went dry when Granger emerged from her Floo in a roar of green flames. Granger wore a lavender dress that clung to her curves and gave Millicent a brilliant view of her tits. Granger also used a styling potion to tame her curls into luscious waves. Granger was trying to _impress_ her. 

“Hello,” Granger said, a touch shy. Gone was her solicitor confidence.

Millicent cleared her throat. “I’m glad you came,” she croaked.

Granger gave her a brilliant smile. “Me too. Dinner smells wonderful.”

“Let’s get us some wine.” Millicent had the strongest urge to offer Granger her arm as they made their way to the kitchen. 

The dining room was still a bit of a disaster, the wallpaper shredded, the curtains tattered, but the kitchen was in good condition. She had set a small table using a dainty white tablecloth with a single candle dancing in the middle. She spelled the roast to hover next to the table, and two glasses of wine glided into their hands. 

Millicent helped Granger into her seat. They drank wine, Millicent practically chugging it. It had been too long since she’d had a date, and now she was impossibly nervous. She hoped Granger didn’t notice.

Granger laughed and licked the wine from her lips. The roast served itself, and Millicent made Granger try the turnips first.

“They’re delicious,” Granger moaned. Millicent couldn’t look away from her face. 

“Why did you become a solicitor?” Millicent asked.

Granger thought for a moment. “To help people. To have power.”

Millicent laughed. “The power part sounds very Slytherin.”

“You don’t think Slytherins want to help people, too?”

Millicent frowned. “Some do. I do.”

“Is that why you became a farmer?”

“You think I’m a farmer?”

Granger looked at her curiously. “Aren’t you?”

Millicent fiddled with her serviette. “Yes, I suppose I am. I like working the land. I like selling what I grow. I don’t need the money; instead I like imagining people eating and enjoying the things from my garden.”

“I’m sorry you thought the Ministry was targeting you. We are just trying to protect the Muggles. We question any witch or wizard who wants to do major business with them.”

“Yes, I understand.” Millicent didn’t want to think about her last conversation with Granger. She put down her cutlery. “Do you want that tour now?”

Granger drained her wine. “Yes.”

Millicent took her hand and they went upstairs. She waved her wand and the candle sconces burst to life. The corridor was dark and musty; rain still battered the manor and a few leaks tunneled through the flaking wallpaper. 

“It’s not much,” Millicent said, suddenly self-conscious. 

They wandered through lonely bedrooms and drafty studies. Most rooms contained crumbling fireplaces and mouldy carpets. The portraits hopped between cracked frames to follow them, eyes wide. It had been a long, long time since the manor had any guests.

Millicent caught the eye of her dead great uncle and winked. He glowered at her. Soon she would put his portrait in the attic. 

“Is there a library?” Granger said. 

“Yes.” Millicent guided her to another level. The library’s door drunkenly hung off its hinges, and Millicent helped her through the doorway without banging her head. 

The library was enormous with a magicked vaulted ceiling. The bookcases loomed over them like shadowy trolls. It took Millicent a few moments to find enough candles to illuminate the large space.

Granger gaped as she took in the library. She wandered over to the closest bookcase and trailed her fingers over the dusy spines. 

“I wish you could see it during daylight.” Millicent moved closer.

Granger pressed against her. “Oh?” she murmured.

“Yes, you can’t see it right now, but the walls contain gilded etchings.” 

“Wow.” Granger hesitated. “What about next Sunday? I could see it during the daytime then, if you are available.”

“It can be our second date.”

“Yes.”

Outside, lightning lit up the sky and thunder shook the old window panes. The rain fell harder. 

Millicent turned Granger to look at her. Millicent was taller and solid, and Granger fit nicely against her chest. She raised Granger’s chin to gaze into her beautiful brown eyes. Granger wrapped her arms around her waist, pulling her closer. 

Millicent understood what Granger wanted. Slowly, she dipped her head to press her lips against Granger’s. She held the kiss for a moment, enjoying Granger’s soft mouth, then she parted her lips and their tongues brushed. Granger tasted of wine. 

“Hermione,” she whispered.

“Milly.” 

Moaning, Millicent kissed her deeper.


End file.
